How Am I Supposed to Die
by GlNGERDOE
Summary: The year is 1978 and the Wizarding world is at war. Lily Evans thinks she might break with the pain of it all while James Potter is in a constant restless state. Sirius Black is in a reckless state while Peter Pettigrew is plagued by the demons in his head, and Remus Lupin is haunted by how vulnerable his illness renders him both in peace and war. This, is the Marauders Era.
1. What Lies Ahead

**A/N:** Hello, I'm new here but I love the Marauders' Era and that's all you need to know.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Everything is based on J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter world and its characters. The story title was inspired by the song _How'm I Supposed to Die_ by Civil Twilight.

 **What Lies Ahead**

The current year is 1978. Lily Evans, James Potter and the rest of the marauders; the McKinnon twins, Dorcas Meadowes, Mary Macdonald and Benji Fenwick, are all in their last few months of their final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The war pressed on their brains like a coming storm; dark, heavy and threatening. The thick of it was looming; an invisible death trap ready to swallow them up in the pretense of a victory; leaving carcasses and innumerable scars from wounds that will never fully heal.

The air vibrates with the fatally high dosage of emotions crackling in the atmosphere, as fear and love, pain and confusion all fight for the prominent role. In a world where you could be dead tomorrow; there is no such thing as feeling too much.

And Marlene McKinnon has always been concerned with the fact she couldn't feel enough, while Lily Evans thinks she might break with the pain of it all.

Peter Pettigrew is plagued by the ever-present demons in his head, and Remus Lupin is haunted by how vulnerable his illness renders him both in peace and war.

James Potter is in a constant restless state, knowing that nothing is ever really enough; while Sirius Black is in a reckless state, always trying to prove that he is nothing like his family – nothing at all.

Alice and Frank live in continuous fear of a world which doesn't include the other, and Matt McKinnon fears the day he would be separated from his sister.

Dorcas Meadowes is torn by persistent feelings of distrust, seeded in her since she could ever remember, while Mary Macdonald has always had trouble with stopping at the crossing line.

And Benjy Fenwick constantly wonders if he could really make any difference, while Caradoc Dearborn tries to uncover his self from the maze of facades he created.

The year is 1978 and youth takes on the battle of gods. The Wizarding world is at war. This is the Marauders' Era.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is a what-to-expect-from-this-story part rather than a chapter. A chapter is what's going to be uploaded in a few minutes. I would just like to say that I LOVE these characters with all my heart and soul, and for this reason I feel like it's a duty to bring justice to these characters, since unfortunately, there isn't much about them (or barely anything) in the actual HP books. My aim is to make them three-dimensional, tangible and most importantly: human, with flaws and strengths. I am deeply fascinated by people, movements and emotions, and that's what you'll be finding a lot of.

Without further ado, I'll let you move on to the next part.

Much love, your ginger doe.


	2. Chapter 1: The Woes of Wormtail

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Everything is based on the world and characters of J.K. Also, much love to Panic! At The Disco of whom I make a play on words of their name and two of their songs. Watch out!

 **Chapter 1: The Woes of Wormtail & the Rest**

 _"Only the dead have seen the end of war."_  
― George Santayana, _Soliloquies in England_

"Come _on,_ Madam Rosmerta. Just one song for Evans over there!" Lily - slightly mortified - heard James Potter say to the owner of the Three Broomsticks Inn. "Excellent!" he said happily, after she saw Madam Rosmerta nod, and say something which looked like: _Oh, all right, Potter!_ She glanced over at Lily and smiled, then proceeded to point her wand at a dish sponge sitting limply on the bar in front of her, which immediately started scrubbing the hard surface of its own volition.

James turned around and winked at Lily, running a hand through his already messy, dark hair, as was James Potter custom, while his best friend Sirius conjured a small platform crammed right next to the bar.

"What is he going to do?" Lily asked her friends, glancing around the table, giving Remus and Peter particularly wary looks.

Back at the conjured stage, James and Sirius, accompanied by Frank - an old schoolmate who was in the same Hogwarts house as the two, and a friend - were now also joined by a microphone, two guitars and a bass.

"He's going to sing," Remus grinned at Lily, back at their large round table.

"Yeah, he wrote you a song," added Peter. Dorcas, who was sitting on Peter's right, gave him a smile and then turned her vivid, chartreuse eyes on Lily, giving her a sympathetic look as Lily Evans stared wide eyed at Remus. Nevertheless, a small smile was tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Fantastic!" their friend Marlene exclaimed, from the other end of the table. "Cheer up, Lilz. This is going to be something to remember!" She sent her a wink. Marlene picked up her camera, and with an erupting cloud of purple smoke, snapped a shot of the lot on the small conjured stage. She flashed a grin at Lily - whose face started to flush, threatening to compete with the red colour of her hair - and stole a swig of her twin brother's Firewhiskey. Six empty glasses sat in front of her.

"Can James sing?" Matt, Marlene's brother inquired curiously, turning his blond head at Remus and Peter, while taking the glass away from a scowling Marlene.

"No," they said all too quickly.

Matt chuckled. "Like I said," Marlene grinned once again, swinging her thick locks of hair over her shoulder, " _Fantastic!_ "

"Hello, hello, hello Three Broomsticks!" James shouted into the microphone from the platform, which diverted the lot's attention back to the three. James was sporting a mischievous grin on his angular face, his eyes sweeping across the small crowd in the pub.

Everyone seemed to love the Three Broomsticks, with its comforting warmth; the soft light from some dozen or so candles sitting in their iron sconces, their flames sending dancing shadows through the slightly smoky air of the pub to the many wooden tables and stone floor - but the inn was no longer what it used to be. The reign of Voldemort brought terror and panic unlike any other known before in the Wizarding world. It was a rarity to see people walking alone during daylight these days, and even rarer to see anyone out after dark. Foolish and reckless, they called it. _(Do you have a deathwish?!)_ You don't know who you could trust, that's what they kept saying. You don't know who's with him and who's not. And they could be anywhere; death could be awaiting just around the corner ...

It was crucial to understand that no one was safe. No one. This was what haunted Peter Pettigrew as he sat with his friends at the Three Broomsticks that day. This was what haunted him every second, even those seconds when his eyelids were closed.

Peter lifted his eyes to the conjured platform. His mates, James and Sirius, were grinning at each other. "As some of you might know; Sirius, my mate here," James was saying, nodding his head to the right, where a tall, young man with long, dark hair and an air of casual elegance stood, an equally mischievous grin on his face. "And I," continued James, "are quite known for our hand in mischief making and pranking back at Hogwarts."

Everyone back at the table gave each other knowing looks. "James Potter and Sirius Black?" Dorcas whispered to Peter and Remus. " _No._ " The three of them chuckled.

"So we decided to call ourselves _Panic! At Hogwarts_ ," James said. "What do you think, Frank? Great name, isn't it?"

"Excellent one, mate," Frank, a long faced bloke with warm brown eyes, grinned.

"Oh Merlin," Lily said with a smile on her face, catching Alice's - Frank's girlfriend - eye, who was giggling uncontrollably.

"Yeah, you're right," James was saying. "So this song is for that gorgeous redhead over there." James pointed to where Lily - who had turned a bright pink by now - was sitting. Everyone turned to look. "Right there ... yeah. Beautiful, isn't she?"

"I'm going to _kill_ him," she muttered, although the smile on her face betrayed her words.

"I asked Evans to go out with me about a hundred and eight times before she said yes - "

"He was _very_ persistent, you know."

"Once she even said she'd rather date the Giant Squid than me, but here we are - "

"Such a _git._ "

And with a final wink, James announced: "This one's called _Lily Smiles_!" and James started strumming on the strings of his guitar, joined by Sirius on the bass and Frank also on guitar.

 _"Lily smiles like Lily doesn't care!_  
 _She lives in her world so unaware._  
 _Does she know that my destiny lies with herrr?"_

" _Merlin's beard!_ " Lily groaned, hiding her now beetroot coloured face in her hands, and bursting out laughing.

It was safe to say that James Potter was a terrible singer.

Marlene, Matt and Alice were roaring with laughter. Remus was currently choking on his Butterbeer, having chosen the unfortunate moment when James started singing to take a sip. Peter was thumping on his back enthusiastically, trying to sober himself from laughter enough to manage to ask Remus if was all right. Dorcas was chuckling, her hand in front of her mouth, looking at Lily, who still had her face in her hands and could still be seen shaking with laughter.

James continued singing: " _Lily,_ " nodding his head towards Frank who in turn said: " _Lily,_ " and now Sirius, in a high pitched voice: " _Lily!_ "

 _"Oh, Lily ...  
Are you saving me?"_

"So this is the bloke you're dating, Lily?" Alice grinned at her friend.

"Yes, this is the idiot I'm in love with." But Lily also grinned.

"This is gold!" Marlene screamed, snatching her camera once again and snapping a couple more pictures.

The song ended with another:

 _Lily ...  
LILY!  
Oh Lily ...  
LILY!  
Are you saving meee?_

And the Three Broomsticks broke into a round of applause mingled with loud laughter. Dorcas mentally bet that there hadn't been that much noise in the Three Broomsticks in quite a while.

"Thank you, thank you!" James grinned, giving a dramatic bow, joined by non-other than Sirius. "I'm sorry, Madam?" James inquired politely, looking at Madam Rosmerta, who was leaning over the bar and saying something along the lines of: _Brilliant. Now get the bloody hell off that stage, Potter. You're going to wake the whole village up!_ "No, but what about the encore, Madam Rosmerta?! The crowd loves us! Okay here's a last one called: _I Play Quidditch Not Tragedies_.

" _Oh, well imagine,  
As I'm racing the pitch with the quaffle under my arm  
I can't help but to see,  
No, I can't help but to see the speedy golden snitch._

 _"I'd chime in with: Bloody hell McKinnon,  
Catch the golden snitch, oh!  
It's much better to face the Slytherins  
With their arses beaten and kicked!_

"Oh all right, all right, we'll get off stage now," James said hastily, as Madam Rosmerta threatened to vanish his left buttock. However, her voice could barely be heard over the roaring laughter of her customers.

The three of them jumped off the platform to a round of applause, grinning, and Frank took out his wand. With a fancy brandish, the instruments and platform disappeared, and soon Frank joined James in moving back towards their table. "Good job on the guitar there, Frank."

"Cheers, James," Frank grinned. "Not so bad yourself."

"Madam Rosmerta," they heard Sirius say smoothly behind them. "You're looking quite lovely tonight."

James beamed as he approached the table. "How'd you like the song, Evans?" James asked, slipping into the vacant seat next to his girlfriend, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him.

"You," she said, grabbing his face in both hands, "are the _biggest_ dork on the _planet_."

Before James could reply, Marlene started shouting: "Fair off all, _Potteh_ ... I men: fair of all." She then proceeded to uncontrollable giggles.

"Yes, I am the fairest of them all, McKinnon."

"Marlene," Matt said patiently, snatching another glass of Firewhiskey from his giggling twin's hand, "you're drunk."

"Not am I drunk!"

"Excellent," Sirius's voice flooded into the conversation. The whole table looked up, to find Sirius approaching with a tray of drinks floating in front of him. "Here: More drinks, McKinnon, since _not are you drunk_. Make room, Moony," and with a flick of his wand, Remus made the empty glasses move to one side of the table.

"So, Evans," Sirius grinned at the redhead, slipping into the seat between James and Remus, "enjoyed the song?"

"Oh, was the first one for me?" Lily asked, feinting surprise and placing a hand over her heart. "I didn't know. I just didn't hear my name getting mentioned at _all_."

"What do expect?" Peter started saying over the chuckles at the table. "You do know James's notes are full of _L.E_. doodles, right?" He shot James a smirk, who merely grinned lazily.

"You know; you're wrong, Wormtail," Sirius interjected. "It's now _L.P._ ," he looked at Lily, grinning, " _Evans_."

Lily smiled. "I already know my boyfriend's a dork, thank you very much," and she planted a kiss on James's cheek, who looked thoroughly pleased with this. Sirius grinned at him and drowned a shot from the tray.

The table slowly fell into silence, after the three separate conversations at the table drifted like smoke into the atmosphere and disappeared. Everyone seemed to gently sink into their own thoughts. Alice and Frank were holding hands; James was playing with a lock of Lily's long hair, while she traced outlines on the table with her finger, and Matt was silently wrestling another glass of Firewhiskey from Marlene's hand, while she objected in a low, incoherent voice.

The smile had slipped off of Peter's face, and his mind was once again where it used to be these days: in a dark, cold place, which made his stomach turn into knots at thoughts of what was to come. He looked around the table: What were the odds all of them were going to make it out of this war alive?

The odds were non-existent.

Half of him wanted to take them and hide them somewhere safe - but he knew that their choices weren't his to make. He knew they wanted to fight. But what was the point in fighting? What was the point in winning if you lost everything along the way?

 _Maybe if I died first I wouldn't have to face any of it_ , he thought. But his stomach clenched even tighter at the thought of death, which made him regret the few drinks he had. A boy of not even 18 yet ... No. Peter Pettigrew was not ready to die.

Remus sitting next to him looked shabby and ill; his skin held a greyish tinge to it and his eyes were shadowed by a purple colour underneath. His permanent frown lines seemed even deeper lately. He stared at Lily's finger tracing outlines, his face scrunched up in thought.

Even Sirius's trademark grin had evaded him; and Dorcas just sat there, biting her lip, thinking. The war was like a pressing storm, weighing on everyone's brain - and the rain hadn't even started to pour yet. They weren't even in the thick of it.

After what seemed like hours, Alice's voice broke the silence. "I uh ... I hadn't had a good laugh like that in a while," she said quietly, nodding her head in the direction of the now vanished platform. "With all that's going on ... it's hard to find a reason to laugh these days."

Dorcas gave a sarcastic chuckle. Everyone at the table stared at her. "This is only the beginning, Alice. He'll knock us down like dominoes one by one."

"But we have Dumbledore," said James firmly. "We'll be all right as long as we have Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore," started Dorcas hesitantly, "no matter how great of a wizard, is neither omnipotent nor omniscient. Caradoc Dearborn still lost his mother and she was in ... Well, she was on Dumbledore's side, wasn't she?" Marlene's face fell into a serious expression at the mention of this news.

"As sorry as I am for dear Dearborn's mother, " started Sirius calmly, "he's a dick and very much a rotten egg, and if you think I'm going to - "

"Caradoc's not a dick!" Marlene shouted angrily, seeming sober all of a sudden. "You don't know him!"

"Oh, and you know him?" Matt said coldly, shooting her an unpleasant look.

"Oh I'm pretty sure she knows him _well_ ," Sirius started saying in a bitter voice, while James argued with Dorcas: "Of course people will die, Dorcas, there is a war going on! It's not Dumbledore's _fault_ \- Peter?"

Their arguing was stopped abruptly by a horridly loud scraping noise of a chair against the floor; Peter's chair; Peter, who had stood up suddenly, startling everyone, even himself. "I'm going out for some fresh air," he heard himself announce, like a stranger speaking through his mouth. His heart was beating erratically and his breathing felt shallow; Peter started moving before anyone could say a word.

"Want me to come?" Remus shouted behind him after a few startled seconds of silence.

"No," he said curtly, and soon enough he was breathing gulps of cold, spring air; the doors to the Three Broomsticks swinging shut behind him.

He breathed, and breathed and gulped, but his heartbeat didn't seem to want to slow down, and no matter how many breaths he took, his lungs couldn't seem to fill. And he clutched at his pale brown hair, while his brain clutched at his heart and terrible thoughts fogged up his head. "Stop it," he said out loud, his hands now sliding down his face, trying to regain control.

But he still couldn't breathe.

"Stop it," he said louder, his eyes starting to tear up, and he slowly slid down the wall, where later he would have no recollection of how he came to sit on the ground.

But his lungs were failing him and his heart was about to explode. " _STOP IT._ "

" _Peter ..._

 _"_ Peter!"

A hand clutched his shoulder, and Dorcas's voice rang clearly through the fog in his brain. He looked up, his blue eyes wide, fearful, to find Dorcas's round face looming over him, her eyebrows knitted in concern. "What happened?" she asked worriedly.

"I just ..." he spluttered. His heartbeat finally started to slow down from its erratic beat. "I ... All this talk, about what's happening ... It's making me ... I don't ... I feel anxious ... I ... I." He flung his face in his hands again.

He breathed in - his lungs finally allowing him, starting to function once again - and out. And again.

Dorcas sat down on the cold ground next to him, pulling her jacket around herself tightly. "I'm sorry about what happened in there. Arguing with each other and all. But ... well: It's happening, Peter. And we can't ignore it. It won't make it go away."

"I know," he said helplessly. "But I've never felt more confused in my life."

"That's understandable ... I guess ... we have to ask ourselves what there is to be done. What to do ... What we _can_ do."

Peter started fidgeting with his fingers. "They sound like simple words, you know, but - why _aren't_ they simple? I can't understand. I don't know what ... Why can't they just _be_ simple?" Frustration and confusion laced themselves with these words, like something coming out of a child's mouth.

Dorcas turned her head, the shadow from a single street lamp falling on her face, but he could see her smiling; a crease forming at the corner of her mouth. She put her hands on top of his to stop his twiddling fingers. "Because nothing ever really is, Peter."

They fell silent for a moment, in which Peter observed a single piece of parchment being tossed around by the light breeze.

He heard Dorcas take an intake of breath. He glanced at her. "Did he ..." she started tentatively. "Did he talk to you before the Easter holidays? Before we left ... About it."

"The Order of the Phoenix." Peter's voice was barely higher than a whisper.

"Yes," she said softly.

"Remus, James, Sirius, Lily and me; he talked to us together." The conversation which had only taken place the previous week flooded his brain.

"Good evening," Dumbledore had said, his twinkling blue eyes kind behind his half-moon spectacles, as the five of them piled into Dumbledore's large, circular office. "Thank you for meeting me. I am delighted you could make it."

"Of course, Professor," James smiled.

What an odd room, Peter thought. Of course, this wasn't his first trip to the headmaster's office - this came with being a marauder - but every time he found himself there, he couldn't help looking in wonder at the headmaster's beautiful office, with its curious silver instruments and spindle legged tables; little puffs of smoke emerging from the former at intervals. On a perch behind the door, stood a phoenix; Dumbledore's - Fawkes his name was - and of course, on a shelf sat the old, patched up Sorting Hat which had placed all five students in the office in Gryffindor.

Peter looked away hastily, shifting his feet. He remembered it clearly: The hat on his head during the Sorting Ceremony; the hat taking longer than five minutes - a hatstall, they called it - deliberating whether to put him in Gryffindor or Slytherin. Slytherin; the house of the cunning and ambitious. He frequently wondered why it considered to put him there when he possessed none of the traits Salazar Slytherin dearly cherished. It made him uneasy; the fact that the hat considered putting him in the house which produced most dark wizards than any of the others ever had ...

"By all means; take a seat!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, gesturing to the five comfortable chairs he produced out of thin air, and which now sat in front of his enormous claw-footed desk, behind which he himself took a seat.

"Thank you, Professor," Lily smiled. "What is it that you wanted to see us about, Sir?"

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore, his voice ever so calm and collected. He brought his fingertips together in front of him and observed them all in turn. The five of them looked at him expectantly.

"I have a request," Dumbledore said finally. James and Sirius shared a quick glance. "As I am sure you all know very well, beyond the safety and comfort of these castle walls there is a terrible war happening. Silently, perhaps, for now ... but Lord Voldemort is already wreaking havoc. No one is safe, especially the Muggle-borns and blood traitors." Lily looked at him, her head held high, defiant. "Innocent Muggles are being sacrificed in Voldemort's rise to power.

"But you already know this of course, and for this reason comes my request. I genuinely believe you would be of value. I give my requests, before Voldemort seeks to recruit you - "

" _Recruit us?_ " James interrupted loudly, unable to stop himself. "Why on earth would he think we'd join his bloody fascist movement?" Sirius nodded aggressively in agreement.

"Ah," said Dumbledore again, merely smiling. "Well, if you do permit me to say so Mr Potter, you are quite a brilliant wizard to have on an army. Voldemort is not foolish."

James opened his mouth to speak again, but Dumbledore raised his hand; a silent command, and silence fell once again. Then came his request: "After you leave Hogwarts, I would very much like to have you in the Order of the Phoenix."

"What did you tell him?" Dorcas's voice interrupted him from his thoughts.

"We said yes."

"Of course you did." She smiled at him again. "You lot ... Gryffindor never knew any braver."

"I'm not brave," he said quickly before he could stop himself. "I'm not like them, Dorcas. I'm not as brave as they are." Even Dumbledore knew. They all agreed to join at once after Dumbledore explained the Order of the Phoenix; but the look he gave Peter said it all. Of course, Peter wanted to think about it, mull it over, but it was hardly an option when the rest of the marauders and Lily agreed to it in a heartbeat.

And Dumbledore looked at him, unblinking, as if waiting. Waiting for him to falter: _No. I'm sorry, Dumbledore. I can't do it!_

"Peter! Of course you're brave," she said with a little laugh. "Just because you get afraid doesn't mean you're not brave. It's smart to be scared. I admire you. Really, I do," she added quietly, their eyes connecting. "Your dedication, your loyalty - "

"I make an abysmal wizard! I'll _never_ be half as good a dueller as James or Sirius, or _half_ as clever as Remus. Merlin, I wouldn't last two minutes in a fight! I'm as good as a Squib - "

" _Peter._ "

"I'm just ... I'm weak, I'm ... All I do ... I'll never ..." He looked in front of him, clutching his hair again. Dorcas's eyes were fixed on him; taking in the way his fingers curled in his hair, how his eyes stared at his lap over his aquiline nose and the way his eyelashes looked as if they'd been powdered with gold in the dim light of the street.

"I'm just Peter," he said miserably.

"Good," said Dorcas softly, "because I don't want you to be anyone else."

* * *

And later that night they all left the inn to go to their homes; back to their thoughts and the weight that pressed down on them.

A messy haired, bespectacled wizard kissed his redhead goodnight, beneath the light of her front porch and bid her sweet dreams. She checked in on her father as soon as she went inside to find him still awake, his face all clammy. She took his temperature and realised it was rising alarmingly fast once again, but he insisted: "Honestly Lily, darling; I feel all right. Maybe a bit chilly, but I'm fine, really," and he coughed.

James Potter returned to his sumptuous house, to find his best friend sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, with only a candle for company and a single moving photograph in his hand, a cigarette in another; a vacant expression on his face as he observed himself and his younger brother laughing, in what seemed like another lifetime. A brother whom he lost to the family that disowned him because he couldn't find it in himself to be immersed in the dark arts like they were. _Sirius Black! What a disgrace to the Black family name_ , they said.

"Sirius."

He looked up. "Mate," he just said; face and voice void of any humour whatsoever.

Matt McKinnon carried his giggling sister up the stairs of their family house to her bedroom that night. "There you go," he said, laying her down carefully on her unmade bed. "Let me take your shoes off now, Firewhiskey."

" _No_ , no!" she protested, getting up too quickly for her own good. "Put on Patti Smith!" and she fell to the ground in a fit of giggles.

Her brother raised an eyebrow at her. "What? Marlene, it's 2am!"

"I don't care!"

"Fine," he said in defeat, shaking his head as he walked to the long-player. "You're crazy." But her laughter was infectious.

And so the McKinnon twins lied down on the bedroom floor, listening to Patti Smith on a medium volume.

"Hey, Matty?" Marlene said.

"Yeah, Firewhiskey?"

"We'll always have each other, right?" Her voice had suddenly gone quiet.

He took his sister's hand in his. "I promise.

"From the womb to the tomb, sister."

Marlene snorted and burst into laughter. "That was _awful_ ," she giggled, "and _so_ morbid."

He grinned at her and both twins started laughing uncontrollably for no particular reason, and they continued doing that for some time, because sometimes, all you need is a little bit of laughter in a time of madness.

Alice and Frank slept in the tiny flat they had together that night; grateful for a home no matter how small and cold.

"I love you," Frank said, kissing Alice on the top of her head, as she moved closer to him. She looked up at him, her big brown eyes full of warmth and kindness, the way Alice always was, and they felt it; deep within them, that nothing could go wrong when they had each other by their side.

"I love _you_."

And they slept in each other's arms, grateful for one another, because some people even had that taken away from them.

Peter Pettigrew accompanied Remus Lupin to his parents' house, because the latter couldn't bear to find his parents awake again and fighting, and having to face them alone.

Peter was half glad, half guilty for leaving his mother alone that night. But that house was a prison and he never felt more fragile and alone as he did when he was there.

"Peter?" Remus said an hour later, when both of them were in bed.

"Yeah?" Peter said from the other side of the room. He didn't think it was possible to go to sleep in his state of mind.

Remus sat up. He was examining the wounds on his arms carefully which still hadn't healed from the previous full moon. "I'm not even ..." his hands shook, "I can't even take care of myself ... I'm a werewolf ... I'm dangerous. I'm a monster! ... How am I supposed to ...?" His voice faltered, but he needn't finish his sentence.

His friend got up from his bed and made his way to Remus's. "Budge over," he said.

"What?" Remus looked up.

"Just move," he said, sitting down on Remus's bed. And Remus moved.

Peter lay on his back, examining the patterned light on the ceiling which filtered through the windows from the yellow street lights outside. His friend glanced over at him.

"You're not alone, Remus. You won't _ever_ have to be alone," he said fiercely. "You've got us.

"And you're not a monster. You're my friend."

Remus said nothing, but Peter's words seemed to ease the load weighing him down that night. And for the millionth time, Remus sent a silent thank you to whoever or whatever out there, because now he had them, he could never imagine his life without Peter Pettigrew, James Potter and Sirius Black. And for the first time since the full moon, he slept as close to peaceful as someone like Remus Lupin could ever do.

Beside him, Peter lay awake, wondering if Dorcas was asleep by then.

Indeed, Dorcas Meadowes was in bed, but not asleep. She was jumping at every creak and sound her mother's empty flat made. She didn't even bother leaving a note saying where she was - but the witch was used to this.

And Dorcas wondered how on earth Dumbledore could have ever asked her to trust her life in the Order's hands and the headmaster's, when all she ever had was herself.

* * *

 **A/N:** I originally meant for this to be a one shot of the marauders and Lily at the bar - with James singing _Lily Smiles_ \- for my friend, Eva's birthday, but here we are. Actually it was Eva who was all: IMAGINE JAMES (because he does fit Brendon Urie's physical description, ya know) STARTING A BAND AND CALLING IT PANIC! AT HOGWARTS. So a shout out to Eva and Panic! At The Disco because I'm sure they're reading this. The songs "mentioned" are _Sarah Smiles_ and _I Write Sins Not Tragedies_.

This chapter was Peter-esque because yes, Peter Pettigrew is actually human and I've been Peter trash af, but I've also been watching a lot of Jamie Bell films recently (who in my mind is Peter) so maybe I can blame him. Next chapter, which is currently in the works, is more Lily-esque and painful just how I like 'em.

Reviews are better than chocolate so give me some and I'll give you love in return.

Yours truly, the ginger doe.


	3. Chapter 2: Lily's Wounds

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. But J. K. Rowling owns the world, including the characters, Wizarding world and setting for this story. Much love to J. K., especially for that new info on the Potter family via Pottemore. A god has heard my prayers. My thanks also go to Eva, my friend and appointed Beta Reader.

 _Another lover hits the universe. The circle is broken. But with death comes rebirth. And like all lovers and sad people, I am a poet._  
–Allen Ginsberg, _Kill Your Darlings_

 **Chapter 2: Lily's Wounds**

Sirius was impatiently rubbing his hair with a towel in his mate's room early the next day, attempting to dry it – while singing to what he called his theme song: _Cherry Bomb_ (of course) by The Runaways – when half way through a guitar solo – because of course, Sirius Black also sings the guitar solos – he remembered he was a wizard.

Muttering to himself something which sounded remarkably like his mother – _Pureblooded Sirius Black forgets he's a wizard! Will the scandal_ ever _end? –_ he took out his wand and performed a Hot-Air charm. Warm air erupted from the tip immediately, and within seconds, his hair was dry. "Oh the perks," he said happily to himself.

"Sirius," came a raspy, female voice from behind him, startling the wizard.

Sirius whipped around, his wand held out before him, hand gripped tightly around it – until he registered the voice as belonging to Lily Evans. Particularly: Lily Evans when she had a sore throat.

And sure enough, Lily was stepping out of the brick fireplace from the other side of the room, dusting ash off her clothes; tongues of green flames dying behind her.

"Bloody hell, Evans," he said with a deep exhale of air, clutching his chest – but he quickly recovered. "Bit unlucky you know; two minutes earlier and you would've seen me fully in the nu – " His smirk slackened into a tight line and his eyebrows knit together in concern as he took in her appearance. He frowned. "What's wrong?" Lily was dusting ash off from the same clothes she had worn the past evening to the Three Broomsticks; her hair was thrown in a hasty bun, coming undone like autumn leaves; traces of streaked mascara lied across her cheeks, as if she had lightly run her hands over her face, but not managing to wipe it all off.

"Where's James?" she demanded, her voice coming out surprisingly strong.

"In the kitchen with – " But as quickly as she came, as quickly she left; this time with a _crack._

* * *

James Potter was indeed in the kitchen, having tea and porridge at the oak dining table, impatiently waiting for his father to finish reading the _Daily Prophet_ so he could pour over it instead, and analyse every single word and detail.

"Everything all right, Fleamont?" asked Mrs Potter, in a voice of attempted coolness, but James knew she meant: _Please tell me that no one we know is dead._

"No one we know is mentioned," her husband replied slowly in his calm voice.

"What about the ministry?" started James, "Does anything seem fishy? _Anything?_ Do you think they've infiltrated the ministry? Can _I_ see?" he said impatiently, stretching his hand out.

Mrs Potter pursed her lips. "You will let your father finish reading his paper and you will eat your porridge!"

James opened his mouth to object, but his mother's stern look told him better, and so he looked down at his porridge and grumpily dug a spoon in his oatmeal. But James Potter wasn't hungry; he was restless. He kept shifting on his chair, and raising his spoon to his mouth only to change his mind halfway and put it down, reaching for his tea instead to have something to do.

Yesterday evening felt like a lifetime away: The Three Broomsticks with his friends and Lily – and laughter; it seemed so long ago. It was true what Alice had said; they hadn't a good laugh like that in a while. Everyone's colours were blackened these days. Even James Potter's, whom everyone thought was all fun and games. True he was a prankster, and he loved his jokes, but he also held principles and beliefs which he prided himself on – principles and beliefs which were threatened by Voldemort and his followers at that present moment in time.

"James," said his mother cautiously, her hazel eyes eyeing him carefully. He raised an eyebrow in response. "You are not … Please tell me you've thought about the Order of the Phoenix."

"I have, Mum, several times in fact. I've already said yes and I'm not backing out on my word. And neither do I want to."

"But you're so young, James. This is not yours to settle! And it's dangerous – so dangerous out there, especially being out in the thick of it all; the fighting!"

"So what? I'll just sit here comfortably while other people die for me?" His voice started to get louder. "That's not going to happen, Mum. I never was the kind of person to sit down and do nothing; especially now, when all that I believe in is being trodden over by some arse – "

" _James._ "

"With his loony notion of pure-blood dominance! This is _my_ world he's threatening, mother! _Our_ world."

"Stop shouting at your mother."

" _I'm not shouting!_ "

"There's nothing noble about dying!" Mrs Potter yelled even louder.

All three of them fell quiet. "I don't want to be noble," James said, his voice barely higher than a whisper. "I just want a world, where the people I love and care about can live freely without being discriminated and threatened. I don't care what their blood is; I don't care where they come from – it's all irrelevant, and if there's something I could do to stop this, I'm going to do it."

Mrs Potter opened her mouth to speak, but her husband beat her to it. "The price of freedom is high, Euphemia," he sighed deeply. "Cowering will not pay for it I'm afraid." James nodded.

"So you're ready to have our son die?" Mrs Potter asked quietly.

"Mum, I think that's an unfair quest – "

"Are _you_ ready to die?" she said in a shrill voice. "A simple spell James – that's all it takes: one."

"Don't you think I know, Mum? I know the odds; I know the costs, and I'm ready to do what's needed to be done. Recently I started to priorities things in my life … Some things are worth dying for." James was unable to look at her, so he stared down at the pattern of the table's wood – but he could hear it in her voice: She was close to tears.

"I'm afraid," she whispered.

"Now, now, Euphemia; that doesn't mean – "

"I'm scared too, Mum," James added quietly.

 _Crack!_

James was out of his seat in a heartbeat, wand at the ready; Mr Potter's wand also pointed; only to find: "Lily!" The young wizard knew something was wrong immediately.

"James," she just said, and burst into tears.

Mrs Potter was clutching at her chest, taking a deep breath; "Lily, dear, you startled me." She glanced around at her husband, raising a suggestive eyebrow, while James rushed to Lily's side anxiously, holding her face in his hands. "Lily, what's wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Mr Potter nodded at one of the doors leading out of the kitchen. "We'll leave you two alone," James's mother said quietly. James nodded his head in thanks, and Mr Potter rose from his chair, following his wife out of the kitchen, and out onto the patio.

"It's – It's my dad!" Lily spluttered. "There was so much blood James, there was so much blood! I didn't know what to do!" Her eyes were wide, hysterical, trails of murky black glistened on her cheeks. James guided her to a chair, but she shook her head. "He just kept coughing it up and I – I – I didn't know what to do. I'm a witch and I couldn't do a thing. He was dying in front of me, James. He was dying!" Tears were spilling uncontrollably from her eyes; James wrapped his arms around her, only half grasping what she was saying.

"He's at the hospital. And I don't know … I don't know what's going to happen. James … " she said helplessly.

"All right," said James calmly, taking her face in his hands once again. "Can you take us there, Lily?" She nodded her head firmly; eyes wet and with a taint of red, but she was no longer crying. "Good. I'm going to tell me parents where we'll be now. I'll just be a second, all right?"

She nodded, her voice hoarse: "Thank you."

James was back at Lily's side in less than a minute. "Whenever you're ready, love," James whispered, gazing into those eyes he loved so much; always a rich, green spring inside. He tenderly took her warm hands in his, caressing her knuckles with his thumb; skin against skin, match to flame, and with a _crack_ , the image of the Potters' kitchen disintegrated into nothing.

They found themselves in a crowded broom closet, where James was about to slip on a slimy floorcloth, causing him to hit his shoulder on a shelf; boxes of washing powder, detergents and soaps fell noisily to the ground like powdered snow and rumbling weather. Lily grabbed his arm to steady him. "Sorry," he muttered.

She straightened his glasses on his nose, and proceeded to seize the doorknob, twisted, opened and peered outside. "All right, come on," she said, taking James's hand.

"They won't let me see him," Lily whispered, as she and James walked through various corridors. White walled corridors after corridors, rustic wall lamps protruding every few paces, and here and there, a polished wooden table with a vase of half parched flowers. James quickly glanced through open wards, his stomach churning at some of the sights awaiting.

"That's never a good sign when they don't let you see them …" Lily continued, her stare fixed in front of her. "I think it's Tuberculosis," she finally said in a low voice. "All the blood, the fever … I read in the Muggle papers there's been an outbreak of drug resistant Tuberculosis recently." She shook her head. "That's not good, James. That's not good at all."

He looked at her carefully, brows close together, concern etched in every space of his face. "I'm so sorry, Lily." He squeezed her hand. To his utmost annoyance, words failed him at that present time. He didn't know what he could've said to make her feel better and ease her troubles.

She wasn't crying; her face was almost impassive, but James could see her shaking with every breath she took, like it was taking a large amount of effort.

They finally emerged in a large hall, occupied by a black, iron chandelier, three filled armchairs in the corner and a desk, after which, a nurse in a white dress and a paper cap on her head sat. Their footsteps echoed on the cream tiles as if there were four people walking across the room.

"Hello," said Lily, "I'm wondering if William Evans is allowed any visitors now, please?"

"William Evans did you say, Miss?"

"Yes."

The nurse searched through different clipboards and various papers. "I'm sorry – no," she finally said. "He's still under observation and no visitors are allowed, I'm afraid."

"Well, can you at least tell me what's wrong with him?" Lily asked, slightly impatient.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing more written here. I have no idea." She gave her a small, apologetic smile. "You're welcome to wait with the others," she indicated at the occupied armchairs and the various other people standing nearby. "We'll let you know when we learn more."

Lily sighed: "Thank you," and she and James took a seat on the cold tiled ground, close to the other waiting people.

James looked closely at Lily who looked worn down and defeated. "You haven't slept at all last night, have you?"

"I can't afford to lose another parent, James!" she burst out, not even giving an inkling that she heard his question. "I just can't."

"You don't know that you will, Lily."

She stared at him. "Really, James? He was coughing up blood. Of course, I'm sure that's nothing. He has Tuberculosis, I know it!" Her lips started trembling.

"You don't know that either," but with every word he said, James could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper, and his irritation with himself getting greater. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but there was nothing he could say or do to make Lily Evans feel better.

"My mum's dead," she continued absentmindedly. "And Petunia has disowned me. I can't, James. I can't." She kept on saying that, perhaps thinking that if she said it enough times; it wouldn't happen.

James pulled her into his arms; trailing his hand up and down her back. "I called her you know. When they took Dad to the hospital." Petunia she meant. "She almost hung up on me," and she started crying in his chest, her tears permeating the thin fabric of his shirt.

"You'll be okay," James murmured. "Whatever happens, we'll go through it together. I promise you, Lily. I won't ever leave you alone – ever. I love you; I do." But for some reason, this made her cry even harder, and James pressed his lips to the top of her head because that was all he could think of doing.

After what seemed like several torturous minutes; Lily's sobs quietened down, until both of them were drenched into silence once again. "Thank you," she finally said, her voice scratchy, "for coming with me. I just barged in on you and your family, and you just dropped everything and came."

"Lily, _of course_ ," James said in disbelief. "I'll go with you wherever you want to; wherever you need to go. _Merlin_ , I'd even go to a tea party with _Filch_ if that's where you wanted to go." They both shared a quiet laugh at the bizarre image of Filch with miniature teacups, lace and stuffed animals.

Lily knew this, of course. Lily knew that James would do anything for her. Lily knew that James Potter would even _die_ for her. This was another thing that scared Lily Evans.

"Why is he doing it?" she whispered suddenly. "Voldemort. Why? What does it matter if my parents are Muggles or not ... Why can't we just let each other _live_?"

"I don't know, Lily ... I guess some people like playing God … if you could even call him a person. He's nothing short of a monster …"

"Do you believe in God?" she asked, looking up at him.

James hesitated but decided on the truth: "No."

"My dad used to take Tuney and me to church when we were younger. My mum didn't like it of course. _Brainwashing_ , she called it. _Moulding_. She spewed words as if they were breath; so easy to inhale and exhale. She never thought about the imprint they could leave ...

"She said he ought to have let us decide when we were older if we wanted to go or not. That it _interfered with our formulation of the Self_ , so she called it."

James listened carefully. Lily never talked about her mother who died in her fourth year at Hogwarts. James particularly remembered her disappearing for two weeks in the second term, and when she came back, she looked different; particularly more grown up: from the way she held herself to the way she spoke.

"I never felt God. All I could feel was cold, hard reality."

* * *

The day extinguished itself in hues of coral and peach; engulfing the light and leaving the spotlight for the silver studs in the sky. And when it was time, they too let their vividness die in the morning light. Freckles and moonstone reuniting with day in a seeping dawn of colour.

But some people did not manage to see her rise that day. Mr Evans was one of those people. And so the sun was greeted with rain and screams, and breaths like howling winds rattling between bones.

* * *

All of it was a sombre affair, from being to end. Not a smile, neither a laugh appeared, and Lily Evans thought she would break with the pain of it all. A hot, metal rod twisted roughly into her heart, leaving yet another hole; scraping through memories and thoughts as it jammed its way through.

"Lily, I think we should go," James said quietly. All was still: No cars, no birds, no wind – the whole world was mourning her father.

Lily didn't speak; she just shook her head and continued to stare at the place where her father's coffin was lowered into the ground, only two hours before. She barely had said anything for the past two days. She wondered if her tongue would be able to remember how to speak.

"You've got to give her time, James," Alice had said the evening before. "She's shocked and overwhelmed."

"Don't you think I know that?" he snapped.

"Of course I _do_ , but I'm also trying to tell you that you've never felt the grief she's feeling. It's like freefalling through a narrow constricted tube, much like apparition to be honest. Awful sensation. Her family's gone, James. It's like having to become an adult and your own parent in a matter of seconds; it's too much to grasp for anyone, let alone an 18 year old. We still need our parents. We'll always want them," she added quietly. James saw her round face look to the right of the green flames in his brick fireplace.

"I'm sorry," he replied in a low voice, feeling a twinge of guilt for snapping at Alice. Alice, whom herself, had lost both of her parents, at even a younger age than Lily. "Does it … It gets better, right?" he asked, wondering if he was being insensitive.

"Not really. You just get used to it. You adjust; like with everything."

"She doesn't want to talk …"

"Her job's not to talk right now, James. She needs to mourn."

"But what do _I_ do?" he asked helplessly.

"You just be patient and love her. I know you could do that, James."

"Lily," James said again. "It's getting dark. It's not safe to be here during – "

"What does it matter?" she shouted, her voice very unlike her own.

James looked at her stunned.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, sounding like herself again and finally turning around to look at him.

"It's all right, Lily."

"No, it's not. Just because my dad is … dead doesn't mean I get to be a bitch to my boyfriend." She stood up; "You're right, we should – " Her words faltered, and James saw her luminous eyes widening as they settled on something on the ground behind James.

James looked around. No one was there; just a bunch of crimson daisies.

Her eyes were lost in reminiscence as she said, "Severus," in an odd voice.

"What?" James snapped turning around, but once again, meeting no one.

"He was here."

"How do you know that?" he asked indignantly. How _dare_ Snape come to Lily's father's funeral?

She pointed at the bouquet of daisies on the ground, and sure enough, as James looked closely, one of them was blooming and dying of its accord on a loop. James had no idea what it meant, but it seemed Lily knew what it was all about, and apparently it had to do with Snape.

James gave a sarcastic laugh. "Are you telling me, dark-arts-loving _Snape_ could have done an adorable charm like this? It could've been Alice or one of the others. They were here. Dorcas or Mary perhaps, or – "

"You make him sound like he's the epitome of evil!" she burst out. "He's not evil, you know. Severus can be sweet and _kind_!" she shouted, and instantly wished she hadn't, for the look on James's face shattered her heart all over again. He was nodding rapidly, unconsciously biting his lip; and then he looked away from, blinking several times as if desperately trying to remove a horrible image from his head.

"James," she said softly. "Let's go home."

"Sure you don't want to take these with you?" His voice had a touch of frost to it.

"No, James." He nodded again. Lily walked towards him and held his hand tightly. Skin to skin. Match to flame. In a matter of seconds, time and space squeezed them out of the confinements of the cemetery; all colour melted and merged within each other into murkiness, until they started solidifying; colour becoming matter and matter creating form. They were outside the gates of James Potter's family house.

James pushed the gate open for Lily and they walked up the pathway to the country house. The sun had almost set now; only a sliver of it remained on the horizon; its light reflected on the waters of the fountain situated on the left of the pathway. Neither of them spoke until they were in front of the door to the living room.

"Can I stay here?" Lily asked, indicating the room.

"Yes, of course," James said, slightly surprised. "Well … I suppose I'll just go upstairs then."

"All right." She gave his hand a final squeeze before turning to open the door.

This room was Lily's favourite. A whole wall of bookshelves accompanied by a rolling ladder filled one side of the room; a deep scarlet patterned wallpaper on the opposite; facing the door, a window the size of the whole wall overlooking the beautiful, blooming grounds of the house – the smell of parchment and sandalwood clutching at the senses.

Lily moved towards the bookcase, dragging her fingers across the various spines of leather. She smiled to herself. The Potters' living room was heaven. She finally settled on an ancient looking book on potions and herbs and sat down on a snug Victorian armchair by the fire.

After what seemed like hours, Lily heard someone walk in.

"Oh. Sorry." Sirius had entered the living room, with a sandwich and a glass of clear liquid. "I didn't know you were here," he said quietly. "Do you want to be alone?"

"No, it's all – is that a sandwich with the crusts cut _off_?" Lily asked in disbelief, eyebrow raised and a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes," Sirius said defensively. "The taste of the crust intervenes with the glorious taste of the bread, since you clearly have never noticed." Lily gave a snort of laughter.

"Well, Evans, I think you're just jealous because James always cuts off the crust on my sandwiches."

"Does James also tie your shoelaces, Black?"

" _Does James also tie your shoelaces, Black?_ " Sirius said in a high-pitched voice, in what Lily assumed, was supposed to be her.

Lily giggled. Sirius's face broke into a grin, glad to not see her looking miserable. "Sometimes I even have my sandwiches cut into dinosaur shapes, if you must know, Evans. For aesthetic purposes, of course."

"Now you're just making that up."

"Am I? _Accio dinosaur shaped sandwich cutters!_ "

Sirius wasn't kidding.

Lily howled with laughter.

"James bought these for me from a Muggle store three Christmases ago. He said they didn't have any dog shaped ones. Oh you bet my mother was over the moon when she saw the addition to my Muggle objects collection." Sirius turned them over in his hands, looking at them fondly – too fondly.

"Oh Sirius I'm-so-cool-and-tough-and-don't-give-a-fuck Black; who knew you were such a fluff ball on the inside."

"A large, fluffy, black dog, Evans, if you please."

She smiled, but the laughter had already left her system; her mind was in overdrive once again. "Sirius, I'm mad," she heard herself say suddenly.

"I know," Sirius replied to her surprise, his grin not leaving his face. "Why do you think I like you so much, Evans? All the best people are."

"What?" she said, slightly open mouthed, staring at Sirius devouring his sandwich.

"Oh come on. You make James mad in places he's not and he makes you mad in places you're not; it's perfect."

She frowned. "No, Sirius: I'm not joking. I think I'm not … right in the head."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I think I'm turning into my mother."

"Was she like mine?" She shook her head. "Then she couldn't have been that bad, can she?"

"You don't understand," she said frustrated. "She hurt the people she cared about. And she never apologised for it. Maybe she didn't even care at all …" she added.

Sirius sat his plate aside and looked at her carefully. "Do _you_ care, Lily?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then you are not like your mother."

* * *

"James?" Lily said, upon knocking on his door.

"You all right?" he said, opening the door quickly.

She couldn't help smiling. "Yes."

They went inside, and settled down on his bed, Lily's legs dangling over the side. "James, I'm sorry."

He scrunched up his face in thought. "For what?"

"I …" but she didn't quite know how to say it properly. "James, I love you."

"I know you do, Lily."

"But I never show it properly or tell you in a convincing manner. I tell people that I do but I never tell you – not seriously. And who knows? I might die tomorrow James and I want you to know it." She got up and starting pacing the room, her voice getting shriller and throat more constricted.

"Lily," James started saying, rising up too.

"No, I want you to know, James." Here she hesitated. "I saw the way you looked at me when I mentioned Severus today."

James sighed. "What's Snape got to do with – "

"Your eyes were _doubtful_. You wondered if I really do love you. You wondered if I could _ever_ love you as much as you do."

James said nothing. She knew she was right.

Lily took a deep breath. "I never loved _Snape_ , James. I loved him in the way friends do. But he made his choices clear, and I have made mine, and I don't regret them. Sometimes I do miss him, but I guess I miss the person I knew when that friendship started out. But that's over. I'm not that girl anymore. I'm 18; I'm Lily Evans and I don't believe in fighting, but I do believing in defending, and I will defend what I believe in. I will defend people like myself and people like my parents, and I'm going to do anything and everything in my power to stop Voldemort. Severus and I are not on the same wavelength, clearly, and I'm enraged he doesn't see it our way. I just – I can't understand … But that's not the point.

"The point is: I love you James, but not like you do; only the way I could. The way I've learned how, from a father that loved too much and a mother that never showed any. And from my sister, who wants nothing to do with me … God, there's so much pain, James, there's so much pain." She dragged her fingers through the roots of her hair; her breathing rattling through her ribcage. "Sometimes I think I wouldn't survive it because it hurts so bloody much. But in spite of it all, I love you, James Potter. I love you with all of my stupid, damaged heart, I do. It's not as pure as yours, but I hope you could accept it the way it is."

A sheet of silence fell upon them, wrapping them up in still breaths. "Lily," James finally said. He slid his fingers up her arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. "Lily," he said again, his thumb caressing her cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Lily exhaled the breath she didn't know she was holding. She beamed at him. "Your eyes are teary," she noted.

"Allergies."

"You don't suffer from allergies."

"Allergies.

"Allergic to my little poetic ways, Potter?"

"Oh don't get so cocky, Edgar Allan Doe."

"It's _Poe_ , James, it's _Poe_."

"You didn't see what I did there, did you?"

* * *

Lily Evans smiled to herself as her eyes settled upon a sleeping James; hair a mess as always, a serene look on his face, and his mouth hanging slightly open. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek, before gently untangling herself from his arms and getting up to her feet.

She looked briefly back at James before walking towards his desk, upon which her bag sat. Rummaging inside it for a few seconds, the redhead then took out a tiny notebook her father had given her that Christmas – the last Christmas; the last gift her father would ever give to her – and a pen. Lily glanced at the alarm clock on James's bedside table: 4am.

She reminded herself of another woman who used to be up at this time writing on several sheets of paper with such urgent fervency – so Lily Evans uncapped her pen and wrote to her:

 _Another bitter night stole blood away from me,  
Almost like that night you left oh so bluntly.  
Another thing I held against you –  
These feelings which only grew._

 _For so long I denied resemblance,  
Out of fury and out of vengeance;  
But today I looked at my reflection,  
And I might have seen a slight connection:_

 _Fiery heads and lion hearts;  
God bless the liberal arts.  
Mum, there might not be tomorrow,  
And sometimes I am consumed by this sorrow.  
But I will not cower, and I will not falter,  
Because you taught me how to be a Gryffindor  
Before you even knew what Gryffindor bore._

 _That night you asked me to forgive you,  
And I said that won't ever do.  
But now there might not be tomorrow,  
And another minute from that night I wish I could borrow,  
To tell you I forgive you,  
And I love you, I love you,  
I love you._

 _Even though you never said you did._

* * *

 **A/N:** So I managed to squeeze a bit of Lily's parental background, especially some on her mother, who seems to have affected her _a lot_. I'm hoping to open more on this aspect in future writings in another Lily-centred part because I find these particular imprints, so to call them, interesting. Also, I put in another side of James than what was seen in the previous part. As I have mentioned: James Potter is not just laughter and pranks, but he is so much more than that (as exhibited on October 31st 1981).

What are your thoughts about this Lily-esque chapter? Did you like it? Did you enjoy it? Did it make you want to eat whole tubes of ice cream and listen to The Smiths? Indulge me with your thoughts, I beg.

Next chapter will focus on Dorcas – who I never thought I could love this much – Mary Macdonald will be introduced (!) and Peter Pettigrew will make an appearance. Remus probably will too. I will shut up now.

Remember comments are better than metaphors, which I do love more than myself.

Hoping to update soon, your ginger doe.


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